


The Ambush

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Genre: Awkward Conversations, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Nipple Play, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-30
Updated: 2009-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-01 01:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon doesn't even have time to say "<em>What the hell,</em>" before Tom's got him backed up against the door, trapped and cornered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2009. Tom Jeter / Simon Stiles, and yes. I give up. _I'm a fucking slashmonster, okay_?

-

Simon doesn't even have time to say " _What the hell,_ " before Tom's got him backed up against the door, trapped and cornered. He's about to say it, though, that or maybe even " _Back the fuck off,_ " which is when Tom grabs two fistfuls of Simon's shirt, dragging him forward the remaining half inch between them and then --

\-- and _then_ \--

\-- he _licks_ \--

\-- drags his fucking _tongue_ , slow and deliberate over Simon's lower lip, hands in Simon's shirt holding on so that Simon couldn't escape even if he'd wanted to.

" _Tom_ ," Simon says, and he fucking hates himself for the way it comes out sounding so breathless and completely _broken_.

Tom does it again, slower, chasing his tongue with a tiny nip of his teeth, his god damned _lips_.

If Simon had ever, ever thought about this, he would have gotten it wrong. Because Tom isn't hesitant or unsure, he's not shy about it, he's taken charge and Simon is left with his heart in his throat and his hands slack at his sides.

Tom flattens his palms over Simon's chest, warmth soaking through the thin cotton and searing into his skin. His fingers moving in slow, exploratory circles, Tom kisses Simon again, hard, practically demanding that Simon kiss him back. Tongue sliding along Simon's, teeth nipping at his lips, Tom's completely in control and Simon is lost, open-mouthed and panting against Tom's mouth.

His hands pausing, Tom scrapes his fingernails over the sensitive skin of his nipples, Simon shuddering at the sensation even through his shirt. Tom smiles against his mouth and does it again, drawing out a soft, shuddering moan that Simon can't quite suppress. It's-- overwhelming, Tom's heat and his mouth and his hands and -- it's like nothing else, nothing that he had ever imagined, even though if he'd been honest with himself, this is what Simon has wanted for a long, long time.

It's hard to get his mind wrapped around the situation, but Simon finally gets it together and kisses Tom back, trying to breathe him in and draw him closer. Tom's keeping him pinned to the door, surprisingly strong for such a thin, wiry frame.

"Okay," Tom said, fingernails scraping down the length of Simon's chest, hands tugging at his shirt until he finally met bare skin. "So, I guess Lucy was right about you."

Simon has no idea what the fuck that means, and he's about to ask when Tom rubs the pads of his thumbs over his nipples, licking and sucking at a spot just under Simon's ear, and instead he arches upward and moans, embarrassingly loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Tom's chuckle in his ear is kind of filthy, his hands doing -- wonderful things, and Simon's so fucking hard it hurts, trying to rub up against Tom's thigh.

Another kiss, this one as filthy and pornographic as anything he's ever dreamed, then Tom shoves him hard until Simon's leaning back against the door, putting his weight on it. There's something like a challenge in Tom's eyes, stroking down Simon's chest until he's got his hand on the front of Simon's jeans, not moving to open them or anything, just cupping him lightly.

"Come on," Simon hisses, but Tom just slides his fingers down the seam, just enough friction to tease, his other hand still on Simon's chest, holding him there. "Come _on_ ," And Tom is staring at him, his eyes dark and a barely noticeable blush of pink across the top of his cheeks. " _Tom_ ,"

And then Tom raises his hand to his lips, licks his fingers wet and shining, then he leans in with damp fingers to stroke Simon's nipple. It's impossible to not arch up into his touch, to groan again and try not to shudder out of his skin, but Tom shifts his hand to Simon's hip and holds him there. And then Tom smiles again, a soft happy smile like he'd just figured out how to read his lines, and then he brushes his lips over Simon's other nipple, tongue swirling over the sensitive skin, teeth chasing them.

Simon groans, his hands flailing into the general area of Tom's shoulder, his hips grinding against Tom's thigh. It's fucking not fair, not -- 

It's just too good, he thinks, too fucking good to be true, Tom holding him here and touching him, his fucking teeth biting so very gently at the hard nub, sucking and licking and holding him against the wall, touching Simon. Kissing him.

Tom mouths his way over Simon's chest, licks the other nipple, sucks on it until they're both hard and aching for attention.

"Tom," Simon says, and then Tom looks up at him, his face slightly flushed, sweat dampening his hair over his forehead. And that's it, that's too much or just enough, Tom's breath over his skin and Simon's coming in his pants like a fucking teenager, moaning something that almost sounds like Tom's name.

Trying to catch his breath, Simon can't help the way he slumps down, needing the door on one side and Tom on the other to hold him up. "What the hell," He gasps, the words arriving about fifteen minutes too late. "What the hell do you mean, Lucy was right about me?"

Tom huffs, and it takes Simon a moment to realize that the other man is laughing at him. "Why don't you ask her?" he says, lips sliding along Simon's neck.

"Oh, yeah," Simon mumbles. "Right," and then he fumbles at the buckle of Tom's belt, trying to get it undone as Tom laughs against his collarbone.

-  
   



End file.
